Transferred
by ArthurDent2
Summary: This is a teenlock, johnlock, story in which Sherlock is expelled from his private school, because of, well, being Sherlock, and 'giving teachers sass' and is forced to go to public school, where he meets a boy, by the name of John... Rated T for a bit of swearing and some sassy time :P
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first teenlock and multiple chapter story. It is Johnlocked so, it might get a little saucy ;) Just kidding, but it you've been warned. Hope you like it :P Oh, and I'm really sorry if John is ever out of character, but I tried my best, and I tried to keep them both as awesome as they are in real life. :P In the story Sherlock and John are the same age, around 17 years of age.**

**Also, I do not own Sherlock. **

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(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock was in a foul mood. He was being sent to public school, of all things, very much against his will. He argued with his mother that he didn't even need to go to school, she could easily tell the government that she was homeschooling him and he could just teach himself every thing he needed to know. His mother refused, she didn't want him around the house every day. Apparently, she couldn't handle too much Sherlock at a time. She was not a very caring mother.

"Sherlock, you are going to public school, and that is that," his mother said firmly.

"At least send me to a private school!" Sherlock complained, "At least they control them there."

"We've run out of private schools! No one will take you!" she exclaimed.

"Send me somewhere farther away then! I don't need to be near home," but she just shook her head, he crossed his arms defiantly, "Mycroft never had to go to public school."

"If only you were more like Mycroft!"

Sherlock might have been surprised at his mother's hateful words, but he had heard them too many times to be. She did not look regretful or sorry whenever she said these things; she simply turned away from him and continued doing what she had been doing. Sherlock did not look hurt or upset whenever she said these things, he gotten accustom to such behavior of his mother; he simply walked away to his room and locked his door. He did not look hurt, but he was, always was.

And now it was final, he would have to go to the dreaded public school, he had been trying to avoid. _At least the times are longer, so I won't have to spend as much time at home._ He sighed. This was going to be interesting.

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**A/N: The next chapter will be out soon, times of future chapter releases may be a little inconsistent though, sorry :P This one is a bit short too, but the next one is pretty long. Also, almost forgot to say, next chapter is in John's perspective, every chapter it will change, back and fourth from Sherlock's to John's POV.**

**And sorry, I realise that this is not how the English system works, but I don't use the English system, so I write it how I know it. Sorry if you can't believe how terribly wrong it is, but if I wrote it the way some of you'd understand it, as the British school system does, then the other half, that know it like I do, would just be confused as well. So, to me, public school is free school that is paid for by the government, and private school is an expensive, more elite, school that you have to pay (some times a lot) of money for, and tend to be fancier (for lack of a better word). I hope you accept this explanation and can get over that little oopsie, because really it's not that important for the story. **

**REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yay chapter 2! :D I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it :) I think I finally got over my writers block, for now, at least, so expect more chapters soon!**

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John was bored. Completely and utterly bored. Same dull class, same dull subject, same dull teacher, and frankly, same dull friends. He always looked happy, but it was a mask he wore for his parents and though often drunk, caring sister. He was anything but happy at this moment. The teacher droned on about something or another, he didn't listen. _I need a change. Maybe I could join a club or something, anything but this. _

Just then the door creaked open and dark, tall figure strode in and handed the teacher a note. The class went silent.

"Ah, yes," said the teacher looking up from the note, at the boy, with an odd expression, "Yes class, this is a new student, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock Holmes was tall, very tall, and slim which just expressed his height even more. And though John felt strange to admit it, he was also very handsome. He had a slender face, with cheekbones that simply could not be real, and dark curly hair that hung above his beautiful eyes, which John was unable to determine the color of. A group of girls in the back of the classroom giggled, but Sherlock was not paying attention to them, in fact, he was looking thoroughly annoyed, as if this was the very last place he wished to be.

The teacher pointed Sherlock to an empty seat not to far from John's and continued his lecture that John was not paying the slightest attention to. John could not take his eyes off the mysterious boy. Sherlock did not seem to be paying attention either, and for the whole rest of the class, he did not rid of his displeased expression. He spent his time just staring out the window.

The moment the bell rang, Sherlock stood and quickly left the room, before the teacher had dismissed anyone. Whatever the teacher had been saying was lost in the clattering of the students packing up and leaving.

Sherlock was in most of John's classes and John wished to introduce himself to the boy he was oddly drawn to, but never did. Something about Sherlock Holmes unnerved him a bit, but he was sure it was also what caused the initial interest he had for him.

Sherlock spoke to no one, unless he was obligated to. Whenever a teacher asked him a question, as they did to put a student off when they didn't think they were listening, he would immediately give the correct answer, without looking away from the window, which always startled the teacher a bit. Every time it made John smile a bit.

* * *

A few days later, Sherlock had still not made any contact anyone with and that expression he wore the first day never disappeared. He also continued to surprise teachers. He was obviously very smart.

John still wanted to introduce himself, but waited for the right moment, which finally came during one science class, when the teacher paired him and Sherlock up as lab partners.

John held his hand out in greeting, "Hi, I'm John." Sherlock did not look up or take John's hand.

"Clearly."

"Sorry?" John asked confused at what Sherlock had meant.

He sighed; then replied in a dull tone, still not looking up from his writing, "Well, the teacher has just said you name, hasn't she?"

"Oh right," John said a bit dazed, but smiled again "Well it seems now we're going have to spend a lot of time together." Sherlock groaned a bit and this time, looked at John.

"Why must all humans find the need to say the obvious or narrate everything happening around them?" he briefly studied John, "Hmm, you are unsatisfied by your current lifestyle, clearly unhappy, your brother and father are drunks and you despise them for it, your mother is depressed but wishes to hide it from you. Your family is having financial problems but your mother tries not to show it and won't let it affect your life. You hope to one day support your family by becoming some kind of doctor, but you're not sure yet, probably army though."

The friendly smile was wiped clean off his face and replaced by wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"Wha- how did you-" John spluttered. Sherlock sighed, as if it was clearly apparent how he knew John's life story with a glance. John would have thought he talked to his mates, but Sherlock rarely talked to anyone and he knew things he never had told his friends, or in fact, anyone.

"On your shirt there is stitching, a different color than the rest, in attempt to make the shirt a bit smaller, as it is too big. Also, your shoes, they have scuffs, perhaps from drunkenness, and are a bit too big for you as well, obviously hand-me-downs, probably from a family member, because you're mother wouldn't buy you used shoes, as she is trying to hide the fact you are at a loss for money, so most probably an older brother, as they are too small for your father, whom would most likely have bigger feet, being older. Your phone, it also used to belong to a family member. On the back it has an engraving, Harry, clearly you are not called Harry, as we established that earlier, which you've also attempted to cross out, showing a bit of resentment towards 'Harry'. There are marks on the phone along the bottom, near the charger, caused by someone coming home late, in the dark trying to plug in their phone, but also being intoxicated, they leave marks, trying to put in the charger. I assume Harry is your brother since we've already recognized that you have a drunken brother. It's almost mostly likely that your brother inherited this drinking addiction from a parent, clearly not your mother, so your father. As your brother and father are both drunks, your mother has fallen into depression, now heightened by the money difficulties, and as you are her son and she has already tried to protect you from your financial situation, she does not want you to know, but you'd have to be a fool not to see. You are unhappy about your mother's current condition, your financial issues and you are most of all unhappy because though you try to help him, your brother still has a serious drinking problem. You want to help your family, as would any son. Your pen, St. Barts hospital, they do not give those just when you visit, you must go for the summer courses for those, so you have interest in being a doctor. And judging by your money you'd have to get a scholarship, but you wouldn't do anything to fancy, like surgeon, because that would take several years to become, and you wish to help your family as soon as possible, that means something less conspicuous, but you don't want to be a nurse, not enough cash. You have the right body type and potential strength to be in the army, which you've probably already considered, but you still want to be a doctor, so that leaves army doctor," he finished simply. John still gaping, who quickly shut his mouth, and paused for a very long time. Sherlock looked at him a bit warily.

Then John smiled and said, "That's, wow, brilliant!" Sherlock appeared surprised at John's reaction.

"Hmm, that's not what people normally say."

"What do they normally say, then?" John asked.

"Piss off," Sherlock said with a small smile, and John burst out laughing.

"But you did miss one thing."

"There is always something," he exhaled, "So what is it then?"

"Harry is my sister, short for Harriet."

"I see," Sherlock mused.

"So, this is your first year," Sherlock sighed, "Oh right, pointing out the obvious again am I?" John joked, "But I was just wondering, if you just moved here or what brought you here." Sherlock looked at him, as though confused why John was still talking to him.

"No, I've always lived here, I just transferred schools. I used to go to the St. Charleston Private School, but I was, well, 'kicked out'."

"What? Why?"

"They claimed I 'experimented' on the other children too much."

"Sorry? Experimented?"

"Science experiments, not for curriculum, just my own experiments on the nature of human behavior and others along similar lines. Also, they said I, how did they put it? ' He gives the teacher sass'. Apparently they didn't like it when I corrected them," he shrugged. John looked at him curiously and to Sherlock's surprise, laughed, and soon Sherlock was laughing with him. John was beginning to like Sherlock. Maybe he had just found his change.

* * *

A week after Sherlock first came, he still did not speak very much, but sometimes conversed with John, becoming more and more open, though John still had to try very hard, to get any information about himself from him. They got along well. The two soon began to spend more time together.

The excitement over a new student had died down, but the girls still giggled at Sherlock sometimes, which made John feel… strange, oddly protective, but he shook it off every time.

* * *

"Why do you hang out with him?" one of John's friends, Mike, asked him.

"I don't know, he's nice, most of the time, and he's smart," John shrugged; he did not tell Mike why he really liked Sherlock though. How he admired his intelligence and how he loved to watch Sherlock deduce other people and laugh together. He thought Sherlock's sharp remarks were funny, even though he sometimes used them on him, because he knew he didn't mean them then. How his dark curls perfectly fit his slim face, and, seriously, those cheekbones could not be real. He liked the way Sherlock looked at him too; it made him feel warm inside. He liked his smile too, and liked smiling at him in return, which made them both smile even wider. It made him feel special that Sherlock had chosen him, to be his solitary friend, the only one he talked to, and the only one he did not think a complete idiot.

Mike brought him back to reality when he said, "Well, he's a bit weird isn't he? He doesn't talk to anyone, well besides you."

"I don't know why, I just don't think he knows anyone else." Of course John knew that was not true though, Sherlock did know everyone else, he new everything about everyone, and had decided he hated all of them. Sherlock especially hated one boy in particular, Anderson. John agreed with him on that though, he was an ass. I mean, he only went by his last name for one; John never bothered to learn his first one anyways. Everyone just called him Anderson. The douche.

* * *

Later that day, Anderson attempted to converse with John. He was sitting with Sherlock on a bench outside, just after school. He was holding hands with his girlfriend as he approached them. _Oh, perfect, _he though sarcastically.

"Hey, you're John right?" Anderson asked and his girlfriend smiled, he sounded nice enough, but John had already made up his mind about him.

"Yeah," John said simply.

"Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to join us," he gestured to him friends waiting for him, "We're about to play a game of football, and we're short one player."

"Sorry mate, but I'm kind of busy," he said, feigning an apologetic tone, and smiled kindly. He turned back to Sherlock, but Anderson did not leave.

"It's just one game," he explained, still trying to convince John.

"Why doesn't she play with you instead?" Sherlock suggested, ice and resentment in his voice. Until that point, Anderson had ignored Sherlock.

"She doesn't play," he snapped. Anderson had not given up on John, but he wished he would leave.

He continued his conversation with Sherlock, to which at that point, Anderson exclaimed, "Oh come on! You don't really want to hang out with him?" he asked incredulously and for a moment, his girlfriend's smile faltered.

"Sorry?" John asked, now thoroughly insulted.

"Well, he's a weirdo! Why would you hang out with him when you could with us?" John's jaw clenched.

"I think who I chose to hang out with and who not to, is my business, not yours," he replied coldly and turned away from Anderson for a second time, and again, Anderson and his girlfriend did not leave, although, she did tug his hand a bit,

"Come on mate, you can't be serious that you'd rather hang out with this freak!" he said gesturing to Sherlock. That tipped John off and he sharply stood up to face Anderson, fist clenched, but Sherlock stood next to him and calmly put and hand on his shoulder and John looked at him, his eyes softened a bit.

"Don't pay attention to him, he's just insecure."

"What?" said Anderson genuinely surprised, obviously, it had not been along the lines of what he had been expecting Sherlock to say.

"Yes, in fact, you are extremely insecure, because you think that you're friends secretly hate you, that is why you seek validation from John as well as others, and are surprised he refused you offer, and now you fear you are really hated, which you are, of course. They just keep you because you're so desperate for friends, and you have the nicest car, plus you're the only one with a pool." Sherlock turned, pulling John with him, who was now trying not to laugh, but before leaving, he quickly added to Anderson's girlfriend, "Oh yes, I almost forgot, he is also cheating on you with Sally Donovan," to which she immediately dropped Anderson's hand, Sherlock cruelly smiled at Anderson, satisfied at her reaction, "Goodbye."

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**A/N: Next chapter Sherlock POV! Coming soon, probably later today or tomorrow, latest possible time, the day after :P**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello! Next chapter is upon us! Thanks for all the follows guys! I really appreciate your interest in my story :D This chapter is in Sherlock's POV.**

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After that, the other students started to call Sherlock 'freak' as well as many other equally unimaginative names, which seemed to bother John more than him. Sherlock thought the reason they called him cruel names, was because they were afraid he would do the same to them as he had to Anderson, which honestly didn't make any sense, because by leaving him alone it would be much less likely for him to want to humiliate them, whereas teasing would only give him cause to. But that's the human defense mechanism for you. He supposed they felt threated by his superior intelligence, but he never expressed these thoughts to John because he though it would make him sound a pompous prat. Well, he _was_ a pompous prat, but he didn't want John to think that. Besides he really didn't care what his classmates called him or thought of him, because he and John were becoming even closer friends and he wouldn't let anything come in the way of that, and also because they were threaten by him for a good reason, they were all idiots.

He noticed that girls still admired him, but now from afar and they stopped giggling as much, his looks hadn't changed but now he was 'the freak', and really he did appreciate this fact because they were really starting to irritate him, as well as John.

John and him were now inseparable. John didn't even spend time with his other friends anymore, which Sherlock liked. Sherlock was becoming very attached to his new 'friend'. He had never had a friend before, so he wasn't sure what it exactly meant to have one, but he was enjoying his time with John. John also seemed to enjoy their time together, which never stopped perplexing Sherlock. He didn't understand why John liked him, or wanted to be around him, nobody else ever did, even when he was small, not even his own mother. He tried to not think about it, but sometimes Sherlock just looked at him, and John smiled back and he was convinced something must be wrong for someone as social and likeable as John to want to spend the majority of his time with someone as closed off and unlikeable as Sherlock.

One day, Sherlock caught John say that they were best friends. It was a surprise but a very pleasant one. Sherlock soon found himself naming John as him best friend at chance he thought it appropriate, but not too often that it would put John off, or sound a bit desperate, not that he really cared though.

But caring was another thing that Sherlock tried not to think about. He found himself caring for John very much, which unnerved him a bit. His brother always said that caring was not an advantage, but a weakness. This worried Sherlock, and he was afraid that he cared for John too much for his own good, but he was having fun with John, something he was not accustomed to, yet he thoroughly enjoyed it, so he ignored the nagging feeling for the time being.

* * *

Sherlock and John sat next to each other as the bell rung and class begun. The teacher talked, but Sherlock didn't listen, he never did, really. He didn't need to because whenever the teacher asked something of him, he simply deduced what they wanted to hear, unaware of the actual question most of the time. John could not do as Sherlock did though, so he paid attention, not quite intent to do so, but he needed to get good grades, so he did. Sherlock studied John. He was taking notes on whatever the teacher had just said, but upon feeling Sherlock's gaze, glanced up and their eyes met. Sherlock's stomach made an odd twist, and John's cheeks burned, not too noticeably, and he look back down at his writing. Sherlock did not break his gaze though.

He wore a button up shirt slightly to big. _I like when he wears sweaters, they are better fitting on him. They don't cover up his muscles like when he wears those. Wait, no. Stop that, _he told himself. His eyes were a beautiful mixture of dark blue-grey on the edge and golden brown near the pupil. _He must have central heterochromia. Strange, that we both have the same condition. _John's hair was short and wavy, a light, dirty blonde color, and Sherlock suddenly had the peculiar desire to run his hands through it. _Stop it. _Sherlock, though not wanting to admit it to himself, thought John very attractive. _I suppose it's normal to be able to appreciate your friend's beauty though. Girls often compliment each other on their looks, why shouldn't I be able to look at John and think he is handsome, without judgment? But the only one judging you now, is yourself._

John was a mystery Sherlock could never unveil, which sometimes infuriated him. No mystery stayed unsolved for long when Sherlock Holmes was on the case, but he was yet to solve the mystery of John Watson. He knew he never would be able to, but he still had not given up. It was infuriating, but it was also exciting. At that thought, he deduced John.

_Tapping fingers, obviously a sign of impatience, he wishes to leave class, maybe he has something to do, somewhere to be. Tuesdays we go to the library together after school though, can't imagine why he'd been so eager to do that, perhaps he just finds this lecture particularly dull. Or maybe he really was eager to just spend time with me. No, stupid. Hopeful thinking. His parents are fighting; I wonder why he hasn't told me. Is he ashamed? His sister is no better. New shoes, not nice enough for a present, but definitely new, so his mother has gotten a part time job, judging by the fact that his father and sister are still drunks, so where else could the money be from? Clearly not John either, his schedule remains the same as it always had, at least from the point we had become friends and on. He's begun to shave, electric not blade. He is also a bit nervous about his date tonight. Hold on, whom is he going on a date with? Why didn't he tell me? He hasn't had any particular interest in any girls that I know of. He's been acting relatively normal for John. I haven't heard of him asking anyone. This is a matter to be determined later. He also ha-_

Suddenly the bell rang, and Sherlock flinched in surprise. How could class have been over? Had he really been staring a John the entire time? It felt no more than 7 minutes. Sherlock was normally very aware of time; this was strange.

John stood up from his seat and Sherlock joined him in exiting the classroom. They ventured to the library in silence and Sherlock saw that John appeared uncharacteristically uneasy. Sherlock swore under his breath. It was probably because he had been staring at him throughout the entirety of the class. That must have been strange for John; he did not know what Sherlock had been doing, that he was deducing him. _No wonder he is acting quiet._

Sherlock cleared his throat and said, "John, are you alright?" He just then noticed he said John's name a lot, when conversing with him or anyone really, not that he did though. Strange, but he like saying it, it felt right as the word slid from his mouth.

John looked up at Sherlock, cheeks burning again, "Oh yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You seem nervous," Sherlock said simply.

"Yeah, well I've got my end of term exams coming soon." _He's lying. _But why on earth would John lie about being nervous, unless…

"John, who are you going on a date with?"

John look startled, clearly not expecting the question.

"Uh, date? Sherlock, I'm not going on a date with anyone, we're going to the library just like we always do." _Interesting, John also likes to say my name, and he's not going on a date._

"Oh sorry, I just though because- never mind."

_Why was he nervous then? What if..._ he waved the thought away. _No, I'm being ridiculous._

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**A/N: I don't know when the next chapter will be out, I was too excited for this one, that as soon as it was finished, I posted it. So, I haven't started the next one yet, but don't worry, because I just got over major writer's block so I'm writing a lot now. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

** A/N: Hello! Chapter 4 has arrived! Hope you like it, because this is where things begin to become interesting...**

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The next few days John was still behaving strangely around Sherlock. He spoke less than usual, and he blushed more than he cared to, and most of all, he felt stupid. He always felt a little less intelligent when he was around Sherlock, but he felt like a proper idiot now.

He was, well, he was having certain emotions and thoughts about a certain someone and it made him feel uncomfortable, especially since that person was the smartest person he'd ever met and could probably see right through him. Also, it was a boy, and John didn't normally think about boys that way, ever, which just made him more uncomfortable around him. He really didn't want to admit it but, _oh, fuck it, _he thought, _I like Sherlock. I like Sherlock Holmes, and I like him in a not strictly platonic way. _Well, there it was, no going back from that.

John liked a boy, and that scared him a bit. He never thought he was gay; he went out with girls all the time, he liked girls. Then was he bi-sexual? He didn't think so. Any other boy he looked at, he would never normally think that they were good looking or anything like that, but he _did_ like a boy, whom he _did_ think about like that. Maybe he was just a straight guy who happened to like a boy. Did that even happen? He didn't know. He supposed Sherlock was an exception though, he always was, but thinking about it gave him a headache, so he stopped, and pushed the feelings away.

* * *

John did not avoid Sherlock, he was his best friend, he would never do that; he didn't even think he could, but he did spend less time with him. He still always sat next to Sherlock at lunch and in classes, they were always partners, and they talked, they walked in the hallway together, but now John would stop going to the library after school, or invite him to his house. Their relationship was now strictly within the school grounds and it made John sick.

Pushing the feelings away really wasn't working for him. They just seemed to come back stronger every time he shoved them out of his brain. He tired to act normal around Sherlock but that also wasn't working. He found it harder to joke with him without thinking about, like it was always nagging at the edge of his thoughts, which only became more prominent when he was with Sherlock.

Some times their hands would accidentally brush or elbows bump when they walked together. It gave John a rush, a rush that he simply did not want (he told himself), but at the same time he did, he liked the feeling of Sherlock's touch, and whenever he felt his skin on his, even for a second, he wanted more. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stop it._

* * *

John and Sherlock sat a lunch alone, as usual, in a quiet, relatively empty corner of the outdoors cafeteria. They sat in silence as John ate his plateful and Sherlock reluctantly nibbled on his sandwich, that John had forced him to take. After they had finished, Sherlock pushed aside his half eaten sandwich and pulled a book out from his rucksack; he began to read. John also pushed his tray away, but unsure what to do, twiddled his thumbs and stared at the table, as Sherlock continued to read. Sherlock was also acting a bit strange, well, for Sherlock's standards. He normally did not read during lunchtime; lunchtime was usually spent talking or John and Sherlock having fun deducing other people from afar.

John dared a look at Sherlock's face, which was intent on reading. Sherlock did not notice and John did not look away. He studied Sherlock's face, memorizing it, but also trying to ignore the way he liked how Sherlock's face never crumpled up with concentration when doing anything, but stayed still and smooth, or how much he liked his eyes and could stare at them, or rather into them, which he thought he liked the sound of rather more, or even how handsome he thought Sherlock was in general.

John knew that Sherlock some times stared at him, but he knew that he was only deducing what he'd had for breakfast or if Harry was any better; nothing more.

John was still looking as Sherlock; he wanted to look away, because he felt weird just straight up staring at him, but could not bring himself to do it. Only when Sherlock glanced up from his book, to see John gazing at him, did he quickly stop, and slightly blush. Why did he do that? He hated himself for doing that, it made what could have been a completely innocent glance, seem like he was ogling at him, which he was, but he didn't want Sherlock to know that.

Sherlock sighed impatiently and closed his book.

"John, you've been acting very strange. What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong, Sherlock," John said, with mock surprise. _That's not going to work, he's a bloody genius; he'll see right through it._

"John, we both know perfectly well that something _is_ wrong. Now, if you could tell me what the problem is, I'm sure we can rid of it and get on with our lives much easier without these awkward silences."

"You tell me," he snapped.

"Sorry, I don't follow," his brows furrowed.

"You tell me what's wrong. I'm sure you can figure it out with that massive brain of yours!" He wasn't sure why, but he was starting to become angry. He supposed it was mostly with himself, him and his stupid emotions, but he directed it at Sherlock to make himself feel better. It wasn't working very well though.

"John, if I could figure it out own my own, I wouldn't be asking you," Sherlock said with that usual edge of annoyance, "It's starting to become infuriating, so please just tell me."

"It's nothing," John replied quietly, looking down now.

"Clearly it's not, otherwise you would not be acting so childish and simply tell me!"

"Sorry, I have to go to class," he stood and began to walk back towards the building, even though there was still several minutes of lunch break left.

"We're in the _same_ class, John!" Sherlock called after him, still the same tone of irritation in his voice, but he did not follow John.

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**A/N: Next chapter coming soon! Please review, tell me what you think. Even constructive critisism is appreciated! (Though not too much) :P**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello! Welcome to chapter 5! :) I switch this one up a bit, it changes POV's a little. You'll figure it out :P Hope you find it enjoyable.**

* * *

Sherlock sat down, at the desk next to John's but did not speak. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the class, rest of the day, rest of the week.

They would casually say things like, "Pass me the tray," or, "You've gotten that question wrong," or even, "John, you've got something on your shirt." Nothing more than simple observations and simple questions.

They still sat at lunch together, still were always partners, still were always together (in school), but they did not laugh together anymore, or exchange more than polite small talk. It was killing Sherlock.

He couldn't take it for much longer, he felt like he was going to burst. Every time he thought of something clever to say or wanted to tell John about some case he found in the newspaper, where he knew they jailed the wrong person, he would not, he could not, because of their new function. He hated it. He had finally found someone he could connect with, someone he could rely on, someone who accepted him as he was, even quirks and all and did not want to change him. Someone who liked him as he was, and someone that he liked too. And he had messed it up. _My fault, all my fault._

He still didn't know why John was angry with him, and it made him angry, so he played along with John in the silence. He dared not be the first to break it, fearing that John would truly leave him then. So he waited, and he waited, and waited. Nothing changed.

Sherlock was falling. He was falling and didn't know what to do.

Of course he had one suspicion on why John could be mad at him, but he always dismissed it, because he knew he was merely observing what was not there, but what he wanted to be. There were all the tell tale signs that his hypotheses was correct, but there were constantly other variables and possibilities. John's heart beat faster because he had to run to not be late to class or his gaze held longer than usual because Sherlock had something on his face.

No, it _must_ be something else, _must_ be his fault.

Then, one day it became even worse.

Sarah Sawyer. Sherlock already knew she fancied John a bit, but did not think she would approach him so soon. But one Wednesday, as Sherlock and John walked wordlessly together to their next class, she did.

"John?" said a surprisingly confident voice. He turned to see Sarah and kindly smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Well," she paused, "I was just wondering, if you wanted to go to the cinema with me?" Sherlock clenched his fist, but neither she nor John was paying any notice to him.

"Oh," John said a bit startled. Unlike Sherlock, he had not realized her feelings for him.

"So… do you want to?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure," he said as if suddenly realizing something.

"Good," she smiled widely, "So, is this Saturday okay then?"

"Yeah, that's fine," he returned her smile, the first time he'd properly smiled in more than a week. And it was not for Sherlock. His nails dug into his palm, and he felt them leave a deep imprint in his skin. A reminder, that John was never his to make smile.

* * *

John collapsed onto his bed and groaned into his pillow._ Since when was everything this complicated? _he thought in exasperation. _My fault, all my fault._

Sherlock was still not talking to him, and he did not dare be the first to speak, because he was afraid he would do something stupid and Sherlock would properly leave him.

It was his fault this was happening, he was the one making everything with his stupid emotions.

And then, to top it all off, he had a _date_. A date with a girl, a very pretty one, which he liked, but he would never like her that way, no matter how hard he wished he did. She was everything he might have look for in a girl, if he didn't like _him_ but he did. The only real reason he'd actually accepted was to make Sherlock, well jealous, he supposed, he'd just seen it as an opportunity and he couldn't not take it. Like that was ever going to happen though. Sherlock _jealous_. _Yeah right._

Some nights he would lay awake, different scenarios swirling around in his head. He smirked. _It's pathetic; you're like a lovesick teenage girl. You've known him for what, 4-5 weeks? And he's your best friend, well, kind of. Oh, god, John, you idiot. _He buried his face deeper into his pillow, cheeks flushing red. Seriously, why did they always have to do that? Fucking annoying.

Some one rapped on the door and he sat upright.

"Johnny?" his mother asked cautiously. She cracked the door open, poking her head in. She looked very tired, and there was a deep rooted sadness in her eyes.

"Come in mum," he responded, a bitter taste in his mouth. She entered, taking on step and was next to John in his small bedroom.

"John, I just came to tell you that sup-" but upon seeing John's expression said, "Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She frowned.

"Okay…"

"I'm not hungry though, so I won't be coming down."

"John," she protested.

"Mum, really, everything is fine," he reassured her.

"Well then just dinner for one tonight," she sighed gloomily.

"Wait, has Harry not come home yet then?" he asked, voice rising in concerned.

"No."

"Of course she hasn't," he smirked; then paused before saying, "and dad's still at work then?" She smiled sadly and nodded quickly, not meeting his eyes. "Actually mum, I think I change my mind," he said rising from his bed and hugging her around the waist, leading her to the stairs, "So, what are we eating?"

* * *

His date was in 30 minutes. _Shit_. John had never wanted to not go on a date before, this badly. Usually it would never be like this, he had been on his fair share of dates before, but now things had changed. He was rapidly trying to think of different excuses not to go. _No, you are going. It might even be good for you, a nice distraction. But maybe you really will like Sarah. _He sighed. Not likely. He was already too far-gone for that. S_he's a very nice girl, at least give it try._

But all he could think about was the way Sherlock would use to rest his crossed legs on his lap, when he would read, or the excited way he would look at him when he had a puzzle to solve, and the way it made his heart quicken. He shook the thought away.

_Sarah_. He was going to the cinema with _Sarah_. Not _him_.

He checked himself in the mirror and fixing his hair, before leaving for his _date_.

Sarah was waiting for him in front of the ticket booth. He awkwardly approached unsure how to greet her.

"Uh, hi Sarah," he said with a weary smile and she turned to face him.

"John!" she smiled. _Oh no, this had not been a good idea._

"So, what are we watching then?"

"Oh I just thought we would watch this," she said pointing to a movie poster of some bloodied battle, called 'War Zone 5'. John had to admit, this is not what he had been expecting.

"Oh yeah, that looks… good."

They quickly bought the tickets and talked, and John found that Sarah was funny and quite easygoing. She was cool and John liked her. But still…

They bought their confectionary food of choice, and then sat in their assigned seats, near the front. He was having a good time so far. Yet...

The theatre lights dimmed; at least they had missed the trailers. The movie began with some office and some kind of leader or another, and some political argument. John was not paying attention. His thoughts kept drifting towards Sherlock. Where was Sherlock right now? What was he doing? Was he thinking about him? He smirked. No, Sherlock was probably searching cases on the computer, writing to the police about who the real murderer was and how their incompetence had blinded them from the obvious fact.

He did not want to think about Sherlock now though, not on his date, so he tried to watch the movie. He had missed the first 10 minutes so he was a little confused but he grasped the plot line easily enough. Sarah seemed to be enjoying herself. Out of curiosity, he decided to try something. Reaching for his drink, he accidentally, on purpose, briefly grazed her hand with his. He waited. Nothing. No rush, no electricity. _Well, this was never going to work then._ He sighed. Sarah did not notice and continued to watch and eat her popcorn.

He turned back to the movie, now concentrating feverishly on it, trying to give it his full attention, no room for any other thoughts. Then he suddenly heard a familiar voice.

"Well, that's just stupid. Look at that! It's obvious that the cousin will double cross 'whatever the main character is called' and take the army for his own!"

He sharply turned his head to the seat next to him. _Sherlock?_

But there was no one there. _Oh god. Now I'm imagining him talking to me when he's not there. That isn't weird._

He excused himself and hurried to the bathroom. He leaned over the sink, staring in his reflection. _Compose yourself, you idiot._ He splashed cold water on his face, straightened up and returned to his seat next to Sarah. He forced himself to sit still and just watch the rest of the movie, and of course Sherlock, well, imaginary Sherlock, had been right.

He and the girl exited the theatre, pushing their way through the crowd until they were both standing in front of the building, alone. She looked at him and smiled.

"That was nice."

"Yeah it was," he looked down scratching the back of his head nervously, "but I, uh, I'm sorry I do really like you, Sarah, but I don't think we should do this again."

She looked a bit taken aback, "What?"

"Well, I, uh, I think that I actually really like someone else, and this made me realize that," he said, unable to look up at her face.

"Oh," she paused, "I see." He dared a look at her. She did not look angry, a bit confused but not angry.

"Sorry, really, but-"

"No, that's alright. I understand."

"Thanks, I mean, I know it sounds a bit cliché, but I would still like to be friends."

"Yeah, I would like that."

"Good," She leaned forwards and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek.

He smiled and set off, away from Sarah.

* * *

Sherlock paced his room. _I bet they're just having the time of their lives_, he thought bitterly. _I bet she's wonderful and funny and flicks her hair_, he thought disgusted._ Oh and I bet she has a cute laugh too._

Then panic began to set in. _What if John really likes her? What if this becomes a long-term thing? What if he kisses her?_ His stomach flipped and he moans covering his face with his hands_. So what if they go on more dates? So what if John and Sarah became a couple? _

_But what did it matter to Sherlock?_ He thought angrily straightening himself up. He sighed. _Everything, it meant everything. Shut up, you're being stupid. _

_This is hardly something you should be moaning and worrying about._

He sat on his bed and flopped down onto his back, still thinking of John and Sarah and how many kids they might have. He closed his eyes.

But then a small ding noise caught his attention and he immediately sat up and reached for his phone.

One new message.

**John: Sorry.**

His heart fluttered and a smile plays on his lips in spite of himself.

_John._

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this entry took a bit longer. I got a bit busier, so I wrote some crackfic with my best friend instead, but now I'm back on schedule, so except more stuff and next chapter soon! School is starting for me in about a week though, so I might not write as often after that, but I'll try my best, and hopefully this story should be finished before then. If not, I'm really sorry, but I'll try my best to make regular uploads.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Chapter 6! Yay! I had a bundle of fun writing this one, maybe even several bundles. (what? ignore that) I was a bit worried about this one though, this was going to determine where the whole rest of the story was going to go. Also, I really want to write a Sherlock at Hogwarts fanfic. That's a bit unrelated but I really want to. Don't worry though, I'm gonna finish this one first. I still don't know how long I should make it... Don't fret though! I don't even know what I'm writing anymore at this point :/ Oh yeah and this one also switches POV a lot, you'll figure it out though. Mlahhh.**

**Enjoy! :D**

* * *

John anxiously stared at his phone's messages, awaiting a reply.

**Sherlock: Thank you. –SH **

He laughed out loud, easily imagining Sherlock's proud tone as he read it.

**John: And?**

**Sherlock: Yes? –SH**

**John: Do you have something to say to me?**

**Sherlock: Oh please, I really don't wish to play this game. –SH**

**John: Come on humor me.**

**Sherlock: Just say it. –SH**

He sighed, but complied.

**John: And you're sorry too, right?**

**Sherlock: If I must be. –SH**

**John: Sherlock…**

**Sherlock: Fine, yes. I also apologize. –SH **

He smiled.

**John: Thank you. **

**Sherlock: Glad that's settled. –SH **

**John: Why do you always have to do that? I know who you are, it says. You don't have to write it again.**

**Sherlock: I desire to, so I shall. –SH **

**John: Whatever.**

**Sherlock: Now, I would like to know exactly what I apologized for. –SH**

**John: You know what you apologized for.**

**Sherlock: John, I am not speaking about the fact that we have barely been talking. I meant, why did it begin in the first place? –SH**

**John: Sherlock, you know why.**

**Sherlock: John, you know I hate it when you do that, stop acting so cryptic, and no I really don't. So tell me. –SH**

_Oh, fuck._

**John: Oh, really? I uhh…**

**Sherlock: John please, I would like to know why you started this silence that I've had to painfully endure for more than a week now. –SH **

_Why didn't I see this coming? Idiot._

**John: I really don't think we should discuss this now, not on a text.**

**Sherlock: All right then, tell me tomorrow, I'll come over. –SH **

**John: No, don't. That's not a good idea.**

**Sherlock: John, don't start this again, I don't want to have to go through that twice. –SH **

_Had it really affected him that much?_

**John: No, I promise, I'm not. It's just my mum. She's in a right state. Harry hasn't come home in a few days…**

At least that was only half untrue. Harry _had_ not been home in a few days and that his mother was in distress, but it had nothing to do with why he didn't want Sherlock to come over.

**Sherlock: I see. –SH **

**John: See you on Monday.**

**Sherlock: Okay. –SH **

**John: Bye Sherlock.**

**Sherlock: Goodbye John. –SH **

He clicked off his phone and covered his face with his hands._ What, the bloody hell, am I supposed to say on Monday? _

* * *

Sherlock sat down in his regular seat and waited for John. He was not there for register that morning. _I'm sure he's just late_.

Someone tried to sit in John's place next to him, but Sherlock gave them a sharp, menacing look and they quickly backed away and sat near the back of the classroom.

Class was about to begin in 2 minutes. _Where is John?_

He picked up his phone.

No new messages.

**Sherlock: John, where are you? –SH **

He waited.

No reply.

He sighed and put his phone away. The bell rang, and the teacher began to pass out some kind of worksheet. She then went on to explain it, but Sherlock was not listening. He waited. John never came to class.

**Sherlock: John why are you not at school? –SH **

No reply.

He went to his next class. No John.

Lunch. He sat alone. No John.

Next class. No John.

Last class. No John.

**Sherlock: John? –SH **

No reply.

He was not going to wait for John anymore. As soon as the final dismissal bell rang, Sherlock stood and quickly strode out of the classroom. He walked past the schoolyard, and onto the street. He ignored the taxi waiting for him and continued to walk, down the road. John's house was not too far away.

* * *

John sat at his desk. He was trying to write an essay on Shakespeare's Macbeth, due for English in a few days time, but he could not concentrate. He stared at the screen, and the words went out of focus. They had lost all meaning, the more he looked at them, the less they looked like words, but more like a collection of random lettering.

He gave up, he could not think straight. He shut his computer closed and glanced at his phone, which he had ignored all day. He picked it up and saw that he had several texts from Sherlock. He groaned. _Shit_.

He had promised not to, but he was, he was ignoring him again. John couldn't face Sherlock though. He had even missed school have to. He could not tell him why. Why he had been acting so strangely.

It was too hard; he didn't think he could ever tell him. It could possibly ruin their friendship, and he didn't want to risk it, especially since he was almost 100% sure that Sherlock did not feel the same way.

_No, I can't tell him. I'll make something up._ But John knew that he couldn't, he'd been trying to do that for the past 2 days and he came up with nothing. Besides, Sherlock would easily know if he was lying or not, and he would not stop asking until he got the truth.

_I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO._

Then, the doorbell rang, and it sure as hell wasn't the post. _Oh, fuck._

* * *

Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently and he waited for someone to let him in. He rang the bell again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

"John! I know you're in there!" he yelled up at John's bedroom window.

Nothing.

"John!"

Nothing

"John! Let me in! You're being stupid now!"

Nothing.

"John! I will not stop yelling until you open the door!"

Nothing.

"This is becoming very tiresome! John!"

Nothing.

"John, you know that I will pick the lock of your front door!"

Scuttling down stairs.

The door burst open, to show John, a bright shade of red, glaring back at him.

"Hello John," Sherlock said, suddenly very casual.

"Sherlock! You can't just do that!" he whispered urgently, "You're causing a scene!"

"It wouldn't have had to be caused in the first place if you would have answered me and stop ignoring me, as you said you would," he snapped back.

"Just come in," John said pulling him inside, trying to avoid the look that he was getting from his neighbor.

As soon as John had closed the door, Sherlock sharply turned to face him.

"I would like to know why you were ignoring me, apologized, said you would tell me why, then instead, continued to ignore me."

"Sherlock…"

"John! This is becoming incredibly ridiculous. I am your best friend. What could you possibly not be able to tell me?"

John looked at him uneasily, but then grabbed his wrist and said, "Come on, let's go to my room," pulling him up the stairs.

Sherlock willingly came. When they reached his room John shut the door behind them and slumped down onto his bed, putting his face in his hands. Sherlock sat next to him.

"John, what is going on?"

"I well, oh bloody hell," he shook his head, "I don't know how to tell you." He looked up at Sherlock, eyes filled with desperation and confusion. His pupils were dilated, and his heart was beating quickly. They were inches apart.

_Wait a moment…_

This time he was sure he wasn't imagining it.

_John? That isn't possible, it can't be… but I'm sure that this isn't just me, I'm sure this time. Maybe I wasn't making it up all along... Be logical, there is no other explanation this time. It would also justify everything that he's been doing of late._

John looked down at his hands again.

"I…"

"John."

"I know, I know. I should just get it out. So I," he groaned, "I uh… fuck this is difficult."

"John," he said again his voice different, kind and soft, but also a bit, to be frank, terrified.

At this, he looked up, surprised at his change of tone. Sherlock shifted so he was sitting in front of him, face to face, still inches apart. He reached slowly, almost cautiously, and gently rested his hands against the sides of John's face, his thumb tenderly stroking the line of his cheekbone.

"Sherlock?" he croaked, barely a whisper.

He ignored him, and carefully leaned forward. His mouth stopped barely a centimeter away from John's, their breath mingling. Then, he softly brushed his lips to his, only for a moment

John took a quick intake of breath, and Sherlock briskly drew away, looking at him warily. _Had I misjudged his wishes?_

John stared at him in disbelief, before Sherlock spluttered, "I- I didn't mean to- I'm sorry if I misread the situa-"

John interjected, by breathlessly saying, "Shut up, Sherlock."

He grabbed a handful of the front of Sherlock's buttoned shirt, and pulled him roughly forward, crushing their lips together.

* * *

**A/N: What do you think? Tell me in the magic of the review/commentary section! **

** (I don't know what's wrong with me today)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: And the seventh chapter is upon us! Enjoy:D**

**Warning: Things get a little saucy, not too saucy though ;)**

* * *

Sherlock went stiff, surprised by John's kiss. But John continued to kiss his tense mouth, and Sherlock soon relaxed, closing his eyes, parting his lips and leaning into John a bit more. John kissed him slowly and gently, and Sherlock let him, but he was a bit unsure exactly what to do. John had kissed many girls before, but he suspected this was Sherlock's first. It was a bit awkward, and a little too much teeth and nose bumping for John's taste, but he could care less, because he was _kissing_ Sherlock. He was kissing, bloody _Sherlock Holmes_, and it felt _really_ good.

Sherlock soon worked out the basics from John's actions, and attempted to copy them in return. It worked. It worked very well.

Kissing Sherlock was very different from the girls John had dated before, but in a good way, an exciting new way, and he liked it.

Sherlock's pale lips were just as soft and warm as they looked, and he tasted faintly of peppermint toothpaste. John really like peppermint toothpaste.

John moved his hands from Sherlock's shirt, which he realized he still had a tight grip on, to run his fingers through his dark curls. He'd really wanted to do that for a while now. Sherlock responded by putting his arms around John's neck, pulling him closer. The kiss became hungrier and more passionate, as if it was John's way of apologizing for all their time together lost in silence, and Sherlock gracefully accepting.

John removed his hands from Sherlock's hair and tracing down the line of his spine, moved his way to hug around his waist. Sherlock shivered at the touch.

John drew him down with him on the bed so that Sherlock was lying on top of him. But just then, the sound of the front door slamming echoed through the house, and Sherlock broke the kiss, realising someone was now in the house with them, to snap his head up checking the bedroom door, but no was was there, yet.

"My mum's home," John said urgently. Sherlock gave him a look, "Yeah, yeah, you already knew that, and I'm just narrating what's happing around us again," he muttered pushing Sherlock off of him.

John sat upright on his bed and Sherlock swiftly reached the other side of the room, and sat on John's desk chair, just in time, before there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," John called, his voice a bit off. He cleared his throat.

"John, I-" his mother began to say as she opened the door but was surprised to see was Sherlock also there. "Oh, sorry Sherlock dear, I didn't know you were coming over. I would have gotten more food for dinner."

"No that's quite alright, Mrs. Watson. I won't be staying much longer. In fact, I was just about to leave. My brother and mother will be waiting for me," he said politely and completely composed. _How does he do that?_ Sherlock stood up from the desk chair and turned to John, "Good bye John, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh uh, yeah, see you tomorrow." John was still flushed red, from their kiss, but Mrs. Watson didn't seem to notice.

Sherlock left.

"Oh, sorry about that," his mother apologized, "Didn't realize he was here. Anyways, I've got dinner ready in about 10 minutes."

"Yeah, okay mum, thanks."

His mother closed the door behind her. John sighed with relief. If his mum had caught him snogging anyone, let alone a _boy_. He didn't even want to think about it. But he was also a bit disappointed at Sherlock's sudden leave and annoyed at his mum for interrupting them.

He lied down on his bed again, and his head buzzing, trying to process what had just happened. _He had kissed Sherlock, and Sherlock had kissed him_.

He was still a little lightheaded from it all.

_But what was going to happen tomorrow?_ He suddenly thought worriedly.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing his room. He often paced around, for some reason it helped him think more clearly. His mind was always a mess, too many thoughts at once, he had to control it, or he would go mad.

_John. I kissed John, and then he kissed me. What does this mean? Well, obviously John has romantic feelings for me and I him, but what does that mean for our friendship? Are we, boyfriends now? Hmmm. Not sure how I feel about that. But it might have just been a kiss; that does not necessarily mean that he wants anymore than what we had before. No, stupid, of course it does. Do I want that though? No. Yes. Maybe. I think so. Oh, I don't know. Yes._

_John will naturally suffer from this new development though. And how will it affect our families? Well, Mycroft and mummy can bugger off, but what about John's family? His sister couldn't care less; she's a closet lesbian and I suspect she already doubts John's sexual orientation. I don't think his mother will really care, as long as John is happy. But his father… Oh his father. That is not good. Not to mention all the idiots at school. No, it must be kept a secret. Couldn't let that happen to John. Yet, this really could all be prevented if I didn't let it happen at all. If I told John I didn't want to be with him. He would continue with life, just as he had before, and no one would hurt him. No, I'm far too selfish for that. We will just have to figure it out. Together._

Sherlock sighed and stopped pacing, sitting down in his favorite armchair.

This was proving to be more tedious than he originally thought, liking John.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this is a bit of a short chapter, but that's how I wanted to end it! (don't worry the chapter, not story) Anyways, I didn't make you wait very long for it, did I? More to come soon! And yes, Sherlock does have an armchair in his bedroom.**

**Reviews are much appreciated :D**

**IMPORTANT FOR ANYONE WHO CARES ABOUT THE FUTURE OF THIS STORY:**

**I need your guys' opinion. How long do you think I should make it? I mean I really could go on for a long time. Would you rather it end in a few chapters (like 2 or 3 more), nice and happy, or would you rather it be longer (like maybe even end up around 15-20 chapters), and things to get a little complicated? Honestly, I'm still super new to this, and don't know if I'm ready for that, but it all depends on you guys, I will try my best. Also, keep in mind, as soon as this is done, I'm starting a new story Harry Potter, Sherlock crossover, which will be long and complicated, so I might want to keep this one short and sweet. Mlah, I don't know. Please vote on a poll I'm putting up, I'm not quite sure how that works though, so if it's all wonky and I mess it up, just PM me telling me what you think. :) Oh yeah and the poll will only be open for a few days, probably only 2 because I would really like to get on with the story :P**

**SLIGHTLY IRRELEVANT BUT ALSO VERY IMPORTANT:**

**And seriously thanks for all the support, it means a lot. I didn't actually think anyone would like my little teenlock story, but you guys are so nice and supportive, and it makes me want to write more for you. Also, because of it, I've been posting these chapters like everyday, which is crazy, because I always thought myself a slow writer, and without your reviews and PMs I would probably only be posting the 3rd chapter today :P**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took a bit longer to post, I've just started school again, so I couldn't write as much. I will try to post as much as possible though!**

**Also, if you didn't see my comment, I have decided to make the shorter version, my reasons are in the comment, so I'm not going to repeat them. Don't fret though! It is still going to be around 10-12, maybe more, but it just won't as dramatic and all that. Even so... the plot thickens... Kind of... Just read it...**

**Enjoy! :D**

* * *

The next day Sherlock went to school just like any other week day, and met up with John like all the times he had done before, and they sat next to each other in class, as usual. What was odd was John's insistent blushing and Sherlock's uncharacteristic goofy grin, well as goofy as you could ever imagine a grin on Sherlock's face, which is to say, still not very goofy.

No one really seemed to notice, some were a bit skeptical at their new behavior but John and Sherlock didn't care for a second.

They still needed to talk about where everything was going, and what was happening, but for the time being they just enjoyed each other's company, and both decided to forget about all that, for the moment.

Their relationship was proving to not be as difficult and taxing as Sherlock worried it would be.

Sherlock had really missed John when he had been ignoring him, and only then did he realize exactly how perfectly happy he was when they were together. He would never take John for granted again; at least he would try not to, which he suspected might not last for as long as he hoped.

They gleefully spent the rest of the day talking and laughing, and Sherlock only said one snide remark, well two technically, but he didn't really think that one counted, directed at John. During lunch, they discretely held hands underneath the table. He felt almost giddy (if you could imagine Sherlock giddy at anything besides a crime scene or perhaps multiple murders) as he and John spent the rest of the school day together, effectively ignoring everything the teachers said, and stealing moments together in a variety of different nooks and hiding places that John had discovered over the years, but never had cause to use before then.

But soon they would have to talk.

That time came later that night, in John's room.

* * *

Sherlock spent many afternoons in John's house, rather than his. He wanted to spend the least amount of time as he could with his mother and brother, and they really didn't mind. In fact, he thought his mother actually preferred it that way. Sherlock did.

He always wanted to spend more time with John. _Oh god, that sounds incredibly corny. What is this, a fiction for teenage girls, about two young boys falling in love?_ Sherlock froze for a moment; realizing what he had just thought. _Falling in love? Did I just think that? Is that what is happening… hmm… It's just a saying, nothing to bother worrying about for too long. It's much too soon for that._

John was typing furiously on his computer, trying to finish his assignment as fast as possible, which Sherlock had finished days previously. A few minutes later, John finally completed with a few more clicks and brief typing of the computer, then turned to Sherlock, who was sitting on the bedroom floor, leaning on John's bedframe, with a satisfied smile.

But then, unable to stop himself, Sherlock blurted, "John, are we boyfriends?"

John's smile faltered and he looked at Sherlock, carefully studying him, "Uh, what? Why ar-"

"It's just that now we have shared several kisses and I have clearly expressed my emotions but I am still unclear on the exact nature of our relationship," he interrupted, talking quickly.

"Well, I dunno… It all depends…" John began uncertainly.

"Upon what?"

"Well, do you want to? Be boyfriends, I mean." John actually looked bashfully down at the floor. _It's so cute when he does that._

_Wait a moment, cute? I've never thought anything was cute in my entire life. What is happening to me? What is John doing to me?_

"I…" he paused, "Yes, I believe so," he said finally.

"Okay, well that's settled then."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you wish to be boyfriends, or are you just accepting the fact that I wish to. I don't want to force you t-"

"No, of course I do! That's what I meant," he hastily reassured him.

"Well then, I suppose we're, dating now then."

"I guess we are..."

There was an awkward pause, but then, they both suddenly began to shake with laughter.

For some reason they both seemed to find the fact that they were now dating very funny; just the idea sounded strange, and a bit ridiculous. Even so, the laughter dissipated, soon after it began, but their large grins did not.

"So then, I'm dating Sherlock Holmes," John said, sounding cheerful and highly amused.

"And I, John Watson." Sherlock replied, still grinning widely.

John moved from his desk chair to sit on the floor beside Sherlock, and seized Sherlock's hand in one of his own, unconsciously stroking it with his thumb. He planted a quick, soft kiss on the other boy's lips and then they immediately dove into conversation. They talked of anything and everything, nothing particularly important, neither really paying attention to the actual topic at hand. Just being together was enough.

* * *

Everything was going very smoothly. John and Sherlock were very happy together, and no one knew. They had kept it a secret very well; even after a least a week of dating, no one suspected them. They still held hands under the table and sometimes nonchalantly brushed hands while walking together, no one gave it a second glance, but _they_ knew what it meant. Whenever they did kiss in public, they were very careful about it. They always checked, and checked again that no one was near.

They spent most of their 'study sessions' as one might call them, in John's bedroom, when Sherlock came over. His mother would always knock first, not that she ever really came up that much anyway, so they never really worried about being caught. John's father was rarely ever home and if he was, he mostly ignored everyone and did work. Harry sometimes came to the house, but now apparently she was sharing an apartment with her 'friend' (who only Sherlock knew was more than just that).

John worked on his homework as Sherlock sat on his bed, playing with a ball of yarn, which why it was in the room in the first place he was unclear on. He watched John, which he found himself doing a lot, but even that got boring after a while, so he closed his eyes and went to his 'mind palace'.

His mind palace was place in his mind, that he often visited when he needed to figure something out, or couldn't think clearly. Having such a place helped immensely to sort out all the jumble in his head. He thought too quickly and too much, it was maddening.

While a normal person would look out at the street and just think something along the lines of "wow, this is beautiful," or "what a busy place," or even, "oh, I really should go to that shop over there," he saw so much more. He saw every detail, every person, that person's life, the cracks in the pavement, what caused them, what shops were thriving and which were quickly going out of business, and so much more. He saw everything, and sometimes it was too much to handle, so he had his mind palace to sort it all out.

He called it a palace, but it was really more of a long white hallway with many different doors. Each door contained something distinctive. Some he stored memories of old cases, some were places he'd once visited. He had rooms for people, for random things he could not place, though he would normally just delete those rooms. He had special rooms just full of happy memories and things he loved. He also had rooms full of hate and horrible things, which he didn't like to open up very often. He even had a particular room just for John.

He only usually went to his mind palace when he was struggling to find something, information or a memory, but now he went there out of pure boredom.

He walked around the empty halls aimlessly, looking for no door specifically. Then, one door caught his eye. Is was deep blue, with a white door frame and had a simple glass name plate that read 'unsolved' in neat slanted writing. He stopped in front of it, just looking at it for a minute, then slowly reached for the silver handle.

**BAM! **

His eyes shot open and he looked around the room, alarmed by the noise, for the source.

John had just drop his folder, and Sherlock sighed, slightly annoyed at the interruption.

"Oh, sorry," said John looking around at Sherlock, "Were you sleeping?"

"No, I was simply thinking."

"Oh, right. Okay then. Don't let me stop you."

"I lost my train of thought. Doesn't matter," he said dismissively, "Are you finished with you work now?"

"Yeah, just completed it."

"Finally," Sherlock exhaled, briskly crossing the small room to pull John towards him.

Sherlock hungrily kissed John's lips, and wrapped his arms around his waist. John was surprised by the sudden action, but only took a moment before leaning, on his tiptoes to reach him better and take a fist full of Sherlock's hair in his hands, kissing him in return.

Sherlock broke the kiss, leaving John gasping for air a little.

"What was that for?" he asked breathlessly.

"I just missed you," Sherlock replied plainly, shrugging.

John grabbed Sherlock's hand and dragged him to the bed. Tugging Sherlock down to sit next to him. He quickly drew Sherlock towards him into another kiss.

John ran his hands along Sherlock's back as Sherlock had his hands caressing the sides of his face and neck. The kiss deepened and Sherlock gently pushed lowered John onto the bed, so that he was lying on top of him. They often ended up in this position eventually, for some reason.

Sherlock moved his lips to lightly kiss the edge of John's mouth, moving to his lower jaw, then slowly to his neck. He began planting small kisses at first, but then deepening and lengthening them, running his tongue along the line of his collarbone, making John give a little involuntary moan. He slowly made his way up back to John's mouth.

The door swung open.

"Hey, John I-" began a female voice, "_Holy shit_."

John roughly shoved Sherlock off of him, "HARRY! What are you doing here?" John exclaimed, straightening to sit up. Sherlock did the same.

"I uh…" she cleared her throat, "Sorry, but who is that?" she demanded gesturing to Sherlock.

Sherlock casually held out his had, and politely said, "Sherlock Holmes." He was incredibly calm for what was happening. She uneasily took his hand and shook it. Not the reaction she was excepting.

"Oh, uh, hello… Sorry to _interrupt_," she said uncomfortably, "but I just came to pick up some things, and I came to ask you if you, uh," she kept glancing at Sherlock, "if you had seen my book. The one that mum gave me."

John did not meet his sister's eyes, running his hand through his, "Yeah it's on the desk," he said looking to the table across the room.

She carefully walked towards the desk and grabbed the book, "Thanks…" Then she slowly walked to the door, "See you," and she closed it behind her.

John groaned and put his head in his hands, "Shit."

Sherlock moved closer to John. "It's alright," he reassured him.

John looked up from his hands, in disbelief at Sherlock.

"Alright? Did you not witness what just happened?" he cried.

Sherlock brushed hair from John's eyes and looked at him earnestly, "John, she won't tell anybody."

"That's not the point!"

"Isn't it?"

"Well, partly, but that's definitely not how I wanted her to find out." He sighed, "_God_, this is just, ugh."

"Are you always this articulate when you are upset?" Sherlock remarked sarcastically, but not in a way meant to be rude. He was trying his best to lighten the mood, change the subject, he just wasn't particularly good at it.

"Shut up. What are we supposed to do now?"

"I don't see why anything must change from its current condition."

"Sherlock! Now she knows!"

"And as I said, she won't tell anyone. She's already been questioning your sexuality, and really it would be quite hypocritical for her to resent you for it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come now John! Don't tell me you don't know!"

"Know what?" he demanded.

"Oh john, really, how do you not know?" Sherlock said exasperatedly. John gave him a look, which Sherlock knew meant, _just tell me you prat_. He sighed, "Fine, fine. You're dear sister. She's gay."

"What? Harry? Gay?" he asked in disbelief.

"I did just say that didn't I?"

"Seriously? How did I not know that?"

"Well, I'm not sure how to put this entirely delicately, so do forgive me for saying, you've been so worried about yourself and your problems, you gave no thought to you sister, let alone what her sexual orientation was."

John ignored his remark. "Since when do you apologize?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You are in a sensitive mood. I made an exception."

"Oh, thank you," John said sarcastically.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"What?"

"You said that we had to do something about this. What do you suggest?"

"About what?"

"John, really, you're truly off your game today," but with another look from John, he elaborated, "About your sister walking in on us..."

"Oh, right. I think I'll just have to talk to her," he sighed.

"Good."

Sherlock watched John stand and leave the room to follow his sister.

He stayed behind.

Grabbing the ball of yarn from off the floor again, he twiddled it in his fingers and lied down, returning to the blue door in his mind.

* * *

**A/N: I will post the next chapter as soon as possible! Don't be upset if it's in a few days though.**

**Feel free to share your thoughts and such in the reviews! It helps to know your opinion. And really, who doesn't like to be praised for their hard work? *hint hint**

**Just kidding, but really it does help to know what you guys think. :P**


	9. Chapter 9

** A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this post took so long, but I did say it was on hold for a while... it's also a kinda short chapter, but, yeah, I don't really have an excuse... I just liked it how it was, even if it is short. Next chapter will be soon! **

* * *

"Harry, wait!" John called after his sister, as she was already walking down the street away from the house. She snapped around to see him, surprised.

"Yeah?" she asked a bit annoyed, but also still uneasy.

"I just need to talk to you, about, uh, well what you saw…"

"John, it's fine. You just surprised me, I suppose. I just didn't expect to see you, well, snogging another bloke," she said, losing the unease a bit.

"Don't yell it to the whole neighborhood!" he whispered urgently. Looking around the empty street to check that no one had heard.

"John, relax, no one is listening. Anyways, what do you care?"

"Well, that's partly why I wanted to talk to you. It's kind of a secret, okay?"

"That your gay?" she asked, unnecessarily loud, and grinning.

"Stop that!"

"Okay, okay, but I really don't care John, you should know that, I've guessed enough for a while and I mean," she paused, "I have something to tell you."

"That your gay? And your roommate isn't just your roommate?"

"What? How did you-"

"Sherlock," he answered shrugging.

"That boy you got there… he's an interesting one."

"Yeah whatever. Just don't tell anyone okay? I mean, imagine if dad found out…" he said, his voice turning grim.

"John, you realize that I've been imagining that for a while now right? You're not the only one. It would… not be good, especially if he knew that both of us…" her eyes glinted with a mixture of sadness and fear, but was gone as soon at it had come.

"Yeah…" he said, with the same glint.

Suddenly Harry pulled John forward into a warm hug, surprising him. It was a little awkward because they usually never did such things, but he was pleased, and hugged her back.

"Good luck, John," she whispered, and drew away. She turned and began to walk down the street again.

"Bye," he replied weakly, but she had already gone.

* * *

Sherlock and John walked down the hallway to English class in silence. Comfortable silence. Sherlock casually, 'accidentally' brushed his hand on John's. John looked up at him and smiled, knowing its meaning, and responded by bumping their feet together. Everything was going to be okay. Well at least until that damned Anderson came back.

Anderson had left them alone for the most part but for some reason something sparked an interest in taunting them again, maybe it was because Sally finally broke it off, John wasn't sure.

They were just eating lunch, when he and a couple of his so-called _friends_ approached them. Sherlock was reading but did not look up.

"Hey, Johnny," oh he really hated it when people called him that, "sitting with the freak again?"

They were idiots, he'd been siting with Sherlock, being his best friend since he first came, of course he was. And they said it like it was something new.

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, we thought as one last act of kindness, we'd offer you a last chance to change your mind."

"Change my mind?"

"Yeah, ditch the freak, and hang with us. You seem all right, he's just rubbing off on you. We're here to save you." It was hardly an act of kindness; they knew he would never accept their offer, not like it was a real one anyways. Sherlock did not glance up from his book.

"I've had plenty of time to think it over, and I'm still just as sure as I was last time," he snapped.

"Uh, oh. The freak's got to him more than we thought! We should have come sooner," taunted one of the goons.

"Just shut the fuck up, will you? You idiot."

"Ooooh, defending your boyfriend's honor are you?" sneered Anderson. He did not know, how could he? He was just playing with words, but it ignited something in John. He jumped up, fists clenched and glared at Anderson with such raw hatred.

Sherlock suddenly looked up at John, but calmly closed his book, putting it in his bag and said, "Come on, John. These bumbling morons have wasted enough of our time." Sherlock stood and began to walk away. John tore his loathsome stare from Anderson to watch Sherlock, then followed him closely behind.

Anderson looked at them slightly confused, as if only now realizing something…

* * *

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN! DRAMA BOMB! kinda... oh well, hope that was enjoyable for your brain in some way or another. Thanks for all the support! NEARLY 2,000 VIEWS AND 30 FOLLOWS! AHHHHHH! that's just ridiculus. :P Please review! :)**

**Love you all MWAH *and a virtual cookie for all :D**


	10. Chapter 10

** A/N: HEEELLLOOO! And thus the next chapter begins! Buuuuut, before that, I just wanted to thank you guys, so much :D Nearly 3,000 views and 41 follows! Seriously, it means so much that you guys like my story. **

**Also, WOHO! we made it to double digit chapters! :D**

**And so it begins...**

* * *

John groaned. He was an idiot. He'd really done it this time.

"John, I don't understand why you're so upset," Sherlock said, sitting next to him on John's bed.

"I overreacted, and know they'll know," he looked down at his hands, "So much for keeping it a secret."

"John, even if they do figure it out, which is unlikely considering their limited brainpower, what exactly are you afraid of?"

"Well, for one, school would become hell, then, rumors will spread, and god knows it will reach my parents… and…"

"Oh… I see." Sherlock had forgotten about John's father. Well, he hadn't forgotten, Sherlock hardly forgets, he had deleted it. He kept the information on the importance of keeping it quiet but he didn't want to have to think about John's father too much. He thought that they could easily handle bulling at school, but home was different, and _both_, and then with a homophobic, drunk father…

Sherlock had been bullied all his life, he could handle his idiot classmates, but for John, John who had always been social and popular and liked before Sherlock came along, it would be new kind of pain. Normally Sherlock would never care about that, he didn't ever care when he was victim and rarely cared for others, but thinking about anyone harming _his _John. That was not acceptable. Not fair.

John was so good, and so kind. He was loyal, but not soft. No, he was strong, a fighter. He could get through it, but Sherlock didn't want him to have to.

They sat in silence, but then, Sherlock took hold of John's hand. John was a bit surprised. He and Sherlock had been together for weeks now, but Sherlock still found it difficult to express his feelings most of the time. Of course, holding hands was something they were not unfamiliar to, but John could feel the emotion behind it.

He looked up from their hands, and Sherlock gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, and John responded by giving their interlaced hands a squeeze. He sighed and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock had the intellect of more than a dozen grown men combined; he would find a way to get through it, even possibly avoid it all together, though he doubted the latter.

All they needed was each other, and he really hoped that would be enough.

But then, a thought hit Sherlock. Why did it have to be enough? Why did they have to hide? Why did they have to worry over keeping it secret? How was that fair? It wasn't, not at all and it made Sherlock have a bitter taste in his mouth. Sherlock and John shouldn't have to conceal their relationship from anyone. Love was love, and it didn't matter who they were. Oh, _love_. Why did he keep thinking that? He should really stop doing that.

* * *

The next day of school was surprising normal. Well, at least as normal as it got for John and Sherlock. No one interacted with them really, besides a few sneers and a little name-calling, which they easily ignored. It was nothing they weren't already accustomed to when it came to school. Anderson was strangely quiet and did not make fun of them at all. It was a bit unnerving. John knew none of Anderson's 'friends' would have realized John's extreme reaction to _boyfriend_, they were all as smart as a lump of dirt (_combined_), but Anderson was not as easily fooled, John was sure of that even if Sherlock was not, but for some reason, Anderson said nothing, did nothing. Surely Sherlock would know why, he would ask later.

Later never came.

Anderson cornered John. Well, when I say _cornered_ it's more like confronted, when Sherlock happened to be away. They were alone. Sherlock had gone to Math, but John had a free period, so he found himself, like on these occasions, by himself. Usually went to the library to study, but Anderson got to him first.

"John," he called after him. _No, no, no, no. Shit._

John might have tried to walk away, but he was in no mood to look weak. He turned sharply, "What do you want Anderson?" he spat.

"I just need to speak with you. No harm intended," he said raising his arms in surrender.

Yeah, okay, sure. Like John was going to believe that.

"Yeah? What about?" the iciness did not leaving John's voice.

"Well, uh, it has do with yesterday," Anderson shuffled awkwardly. What? Why was he doing that? Why wasn't he taunting him yet?

"What about yesterday?" John said, still menacingly, but also a bit unsure, confused by Anderson's behavior.

"I was just going to say, that, uh," he paused uncomfortably, "that it's okay if your queer, I mean."

"What?" John said genuinely shocked. This was definitely not the conversation he'd thought he'd be having with Anderson of all people.

"Yeah, I, well, my uncle, _uncles_ are gay, so I don't, well, you know… I won't tell anyone."

"I- uh, yeah, okay. Thanks, I guess," John struggled for words. This was one of the strangest encounters he'd had in a long time.

"But don't expect me to be nice to the freak or anything," he said suddenly fierce, "He's still a stalker and a weirdo, so nothing's changed. It's just… I won't do anything, because of that…"

"Uh, yeah," he chuckled a little, but it was a bit awkward and shaky, "I thought as much."

"Okay, so, uh, bye." Anderson suddenly strode away, down the hall, leaving a stunned John to stand, alone. _Did that really just happened?_

The bell rang then, making John jump, and the halls began to fill with students. Sherlock found him easily, and upon seeing the look on his face, he inquired, "John, what's happened?"

"Uh, I'll tell you about it after."

* * *

"Anderson confronted you?" he said in disbelief.

"Yes." They sat in John's bedroom, as usual, sitting on his bed, leaning on the wall, inches apart.

Then Sherlock realized something, his reaction to it was almost physical, like it blew him back a little, and hit his head with his hand. "Oh of course! Stupid! He has homosexual relatives! I saw it the first time I saw it, deemed it as unimportant and deleted it, I assume. Of course, that makes complete sense now."

"Uh, yeah, right. Anyways I suppose everything is solved then? I mean Anderson is the only one who knows, well besides Harry, which I settled, and he's not going to tell anyone, so…"

"Ah, yes. I suspect he was being genuine. I don't think he will tell anyone, but John, I don't think this is quite over yet," he paused.

"What do you mean Sherlock?"

"What I mean is, that Anderson and Harry have agreed not to tell anyone, which is agreeable for now, but John, I don't want to have to stay like this forever."

"Sorry?" John asked with his brows furrowed.

"John, I care about you, very much, as we've already established, and I don't want to have to hide. I realize why we must, and it hasn't been horrible to keep it a secret so far, but I don't want to continue this way for much longer."

"Sherlock…"

"John, I know. It's more difficult for you than me also, considering how I am used to ostracism and ridiculing from an early age, but it seems so unjust that we must hide when any other regular couple don't have to. I also realize that I'm being incredibly selfish in saying this, but John, you're the only person I've ever cared about, and in a way, I'm, well, proud that I could get someone a good as you to care for someone as, well, me. I want to be able to 'show you off' per se, and be able to say that you are mine." Sherlock's gaze was deep and honest, but also uneasy, and Sherlock's display of emotions, yet again surprised John. His heart swelled and he knew that this was one of those rare occasions, where Sherlock did express himself, as much as Sherlock could anyways. _And_ Sherlock admitted to being selfish. Wow.

He gazed back into Sherlock's multicolored, thoughtful eyes, and gave him a small smile before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on the other boy's lips. He pulled away a bit and rested their foreheads together, closing his eyes.

"You're right, Sherlock. Of course you are, but I'm not ready, not yet. I'm sorry," John said quietly.

Sherlock hesitated, and then said softly, "I will wait."

And they stayed that way, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, fingers intertwined, and warm breaths mingling, for a long time.

_I love you. _Neither had to say it.

* * *

**A/N: And there you go! The 10th chapter! Hope you liked it. Please tell me what you think, feel free to review or send me a PM. :D**

**I know Anderson might seem a little OOC, or strange, but really, he just hates Sherlock, I mean he teases John too, but besides being friends with Sherlock, doesn't really have a reason of hate him. Plus Anderson sucks, but he's not and entirely horrible person, so I can definitely imagine this happening.**

**Also, side note, I will not be posting for at least a week (SORRY), but it is very much against my will, I swear. I am being ripped from the civilised world to go on a school camping trip :P ughh. Anyways, as soon as I get back I promise to upload. I feel so bad :( alas, what can I do? It is mandatory that I go. I will miss you guys and my computer very much :(**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello folks! Sorry it's been way too long. I've had terrible writer's guilt. After I got back from my forced week out in the wild, with no computer, I was drowned in work. I am here now though, and back with more! Hooray! Fluffiness ensues...**

* * *

Anderson kept his word and did not tell anyone as far as they knew. Bullying was kept to a minimal, and John felt a bit better. A bit.

Now, he felt guilty, well not quite _guilty_, but he didn't feel exactly good, after his conversation with Sherlock. Sherlock noticed. He never meant to make John feel badly but he needed to tell him how felt, which he normally wouldn't do very often, for a reason. _A lot of good that did_, he though bitterly.

They, once again sat in John's bedroom, where the tended to spend a lot of their time, it was one of the only, well really was the only place where they could be together properly and not hide. Plus, Sherlock didn't much like to spend time at his own home, so he usually went to John's house after school and stayed there as long as he possibly could before he was forced to return to his own house.

John sat, as usual at his desk, finishing homework that, of course, Sherlock had already completed, as Sherlock lounged on John's bed watching him.

He thought about John, which he now did a lot more than he'd ever thought one could think about one thing, like his mind was always on John. He could easily multitask, he could store thoughts away, but John was always there, a very prominent thought, in the back of his mind, even when trying to solve murders, or writing some mandatory boring essay, and he would simply not go away, not that Sherlock particularly minded.

John was still upset, which made Sherlock irritated. It might of sounded strange, but he was irritated because he had never cared about anyone enough before to want to make them feel better, as he did then, and it was confusing, but mostly because since he was ill experienced, he had no idea what to do. He just wanted to make John happy, but was unsure about how exactly to approach the situation.

Then an idea struck him.

"John, we're going on a date."

John looked up from his writing in surprise, "What?"

"We should probably go now, actually," he said thoughtfully.

"Wait, wait, Sherlock what are you talking about?"

"Is it not customary for couples to go on dates?" Sherlock asked confused.

"Well, yes it is… but that was kind of out of the blue. Why now? I thought you didn't like those kind of things anyway," he said, brows knitted.

"Usually I don't, but for you I'll make an exception. I noticed we've never actually done anything that normal couples would do-"

"We're hardly a normal couple," John interjected.

"Yes, but… well, you seemed unhappy and I thought this would make you happy. Was I wrong to believe you enjoy this sort of thing?" Sherlock questioned.

"No, but-" John began.

"Good, it's settled," Sherlock said standing up. He grabbed his coat from the bed and walked out of the room. John, still bemused, stared after him, but then shook his head, sighed, and grabbed his coat too. He had no choice but to follow now.

Sherlock was already in front of the house when John caught up to him.

"Sherlock where are you going?" he called to him.

Sherlock turned to him, an excited glint in his eyes, "Where are _we_ going, John."

John quickened his pace to match Sherlock's, so they were together in stride.

"Okay, where are _we_ going then?"

"Anywhere you'd like. Where would you like to go John?" Sherlock suddenly and rather uncharacteristically, enthusiastic, it was strange.

"Uh…"

"Come now John! We could go anywhere! Where would you like to go? Somewhere very traditional, like a restaurant, perhaps?"

"Um, okay," he said unsure.

"Fantastic, we'll go to that adequate Chinese place, you like."

"Sherlock, how are we going to get there exactly?"

"We have feet don't we?" he said animatedly.

John was still utterly confused, but followed Sherlock, on foot to the restaurant. It wasn't to far away by car, but by foot it took a bit longer. John had no idea how to get there, but of course Sherlock had memorized every street in the country, and knew exactly where he was going.

Sherlock was still acting very strange. He was almost in a _good_ mood.

When they got to the restaurant they were immediately seated. Sherlock ignored his menu as John scanned through his, giving Sherlock wary glances every so often.

The waitress came and John ordered some noodles, handing her the menu, when she turned to Sherlock (who she'd met before, it wasn't pretty) with a smirk he quickly ordered without looking away from John, whom he'd been staring at since they'd been sat down. She snatched his menu from the table, and walked to the kitchens, to place their order. John was beginning to feel not quite uncomfortable, but not necessarily comfortable. Sherlock seemed to read his thoughts.

"Don't worry, no one we know is here."

"Oh, uh good."

There was a silence, but then their food arrived. They had fast service, and the restaurant was relatively empty. Sherlock glanced at John's plate and rolled his eyes; after the waitress had left he quickly reached across the table and switched their platters.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked, a little irritated.

"The waitress, she spat in your food thinking it was mine," he said simply. John knew Sherlock wasn't going to eat anyways, but it was still a very kind gesture, _especially_ for Sherlock, of all people.

"Oh, thanks."

John ate his food slowly and Sherlock watched, they both said nothing. Suddenly, Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh.

"This is boring, come John, we're going somewhere else," Sherlock said standing.

"What? But I'm not finished-"

Sherlock grabbed John by the arm, slapped a 50-pound note on the table, which was much more than the meal cost, and pulled John towards the door.

"Wait, you never carry money on you," John said suspiciously.

"Nor do I go on dates." Sherlock winked. John did not understand, what had come over him?

They burst from the front door and onto the busy street.

"What now?" John asked.

"Hm," Sherlock looked in left and right then once again grabbing John's arm pulled him forward, "this way!" Sherlock was almost at a running pace.

"Why? Where are we going?" John called, following after him.

"Haven't the slightest!"

He broke into a full run.

And so, John was caught in the whirlwind that was Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

When he finally stopped, John looked around.

"Where are we?"

"North Umberland Street."

"Sher-"

"Oh look! A chocolate shop! Are those not something one customarily gives on such occasion?" He bounded towards the shop in question. John once again followed.

Sherlock stood above the glass display of chocolates and chocolate boxes, examining them.

"Uh, Sherlock…"

"John, what do you think of this one? It's dark chocolate, you like that right? Oh wait, now this one seems more visually appeasing and has more chocolates," he turned to the curiosity stricken woman at the counter, "This one will suffice."

Sherlock bought the chocolate, and handed it to John, while still in the shop.

"There you go."

"Uh…"

Soon after John found himself sitting on a park bench, god knew where, eating chocolate, as Sherlock threw bits at birds, not _to_ them, but _at_ them. John was still very confused, but somehow found him enjoying himself.

"Sherlock," John called for his attention.

"Yes, John?" he said looking up from a pigeon he was trying to lure forwards with chocolate, only to cause it to fly away, alarmed by getting hit in the face.

"This is by far, the most bizarre first date I've ever been on. Thank you." He leaned forward and planted a small kiss on his lips. At first Sherlock looked surprised at his show of affection in public, but then gave John a sly smile in response.

In fact, it was hardly a date at all, but John knew that Sherlock had no idea what he was doing, and tried his best, and honestly although it had been very confusing and strange, and even a bit irritating, John had had fun. Running through the streets of London with Sherlock was an adrenaline rush.

They were definitely not a normal couple, but it was better that way.

* * *

_Stupid step-dad and his stupid bum ass, _Gabe thought resentfully to himself. He kicked a stone around walking aimlessly, until he found himself at the local park. He thought maybe he'd just sit down and have a smoke, to calm down. But then he saw The Freak.

He was sitting with that stupid John of his at _Gabe's _favorite bench. If he were with his friends he would have approached them and demanded his place back, give that stupid Freak what he deserved, but he thought it best not to risk it alone. That John kid did look pretty strong.

He was about to turn around a just leave, because now he couldn't even relax on his favorite bench, when suddenly John leaned forward and _kissed_ The Freak. Gabe stopped in his tracks. _No fucking way. _He took off in a run, back to his house.

_This was perfect. He couldn't wait to tell Anderson. _

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun duuuun. What will happen? Also, sorry for shoving a new character into your face so suddenly, but as you've probably figured out, Gabe is one of Anderson's goons. **

**I'm sorry my I just couldn't help myself. **

**Also, Sherlock acted very strange in this chapter, but you know, I just had to write that. Sherlock cannot be serious all the time. :P Anyways, what else would their first date be like? I think this would totally happen.**

**Please express your views and thoughts on my new instalment in the reviews! :D**


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